Forgotten
by PandorMedusa
Summary: "Those who had killed my mother."


_**Author's Note:**_ _Please let me know if you like to read more, thank you. I do not own any characters you might read about._

Short orange colored hair laid in a pool of blood. Strands dyed red as the snow fell over the pale and below freezing body. Lifeless blue eyes, once white blue, stared up into the cloudy winter sky. The leafless trees reached over her, blanketing her body from the blaring sun. This was how they had found her, and now she laid on a table in the morgue.

Her body cleaned, darken shapes of hand prints, were a deeply contrasted from her skin. Her hair darker, but still orange was slick back and wet, drying at a slow rate. A blanket of white covered her naked body, keeping her face hidden from view.

Scott looked over her body with Stiles and his mother across from him. Stiles glanced down at the medical report, scanning through the useless information. Scott took a closer look at her body, see nothing supernatural. However, Scott's mother, Melissa, had saw the girl before, covered in a yellow sun dress in the middle of a winter storm. Her eyes white blue were glowing as pure white, just like snow, fangs were hanging just above her bottom lip. Her short orange hair was pulled back with a white pendent.

"There's nothing supernatural about her, mom." Scott stated as he pull away from his inspection. Stiles glance back up and looked between the two before picking up the belongs that the victim had on her at her timely death. The only thing that had stopped the argument between mother and son was the gasp that Stiles had let out before dropping the object he was holding.

"Stiles?" Scott and Melissa asked as they watched the other boy pale and become ashen as if struck by what he saw. Stiles gripped at the stale table and breathed hard through his nose as if trying to prevent a panic attack.

"What's wrong, Stiles?" Melissa asked as she tried to calm the boy by whispering in his ear to calm down and breathe. Stiles slowly backed away from the table and glanced down at the object that a panic attack had induced and pointed down towards it. His words stuck in the back of his throat, only chocking sounds and half formed words were falling from his lips.

"Stiles?" Scott asked once again; however, this time he picked up the object that had startled Stiles in the first time. His brown eyes glanced down at the object and almost dropped it. He became aware of how cold the object was until his eyes landed on it, the white petals were melted onto the metal frame that circled around a ball diamond that glowed faintly blue. The metal clip that was on the back of it was clear as if also made of diamond, but was not.

"They're back." Stiles mumbled clearly as if those were the only words that could form past the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. Scott and Melissa looked back at the teenager with growing worried.

"Who's back, Stiles?" Melissa questioned. Stiles looked straight into the older women and felt the words past his lips. In a dead whisper, colder than ice, voiceless, emotionless, the words that left Stiles' mouth shocked the other two.

"Those who had killed my mother."

They stood in shock, not believing the words that had just came out of Stiles' mouth. Melissa placed her hands onto the teen's shoulders and had the younger man look at her. Eye contact made, Melissa whispered in a soft and calm voice:

"Stiles, your mother died to a medical illness, not by this women or of her kind."

Stiles blinked up at her, his normal golden brown eyes now a darker shade as if black, stared into Melissa's own pair of dark eyes. In his mind he knew that they had forgotten about his mother, his real mother. However, he did not want to hear about the other women. The other women his father had turn too when his first wife had died. The memory of her wiped cleaned from everyone's mind as if she was nothing, but a dusk on the recurring sun rise and sun down.

"No, no, no." He shook his head, whispering this simple word over and over as if trying to convince himself and the other two that he was telling the truth. However, the other two did not believe him no matter how much he pleaded and begged them. In his mind, he knew that no matter how much begging and pleading for them to remember, they will not.

"Scott, go get the Sheriff." Melissa ordered as she tried to regain Stiles attention before a panic attack started. Scott nod his head before glancing at his best friend's face. The worry he felt was shown on his face by his eyebrows sinking to the middle of his forehead and a down turned frown from his lips.

"Stiles." He whispered, his voice filled with worry. He left just after his best friend's nick name past his lips. Stiles watched him leave out of the corner of his eyes before his focus was back onto the nurse.

It was just a few seconds before the morgue doors opened with two males racing in. The oldest one had the Beacon Hills Police Officer uniform, the Sheriff badge on the front of his jacket, glanced at the older women before looking at his son. With a quick assessment of his son, he glanced over to the women on the silver table. Looking back over to his son for a moment, he took a closer down at the women.

"John?" Melissa questioned as she kept Stiles on his feet as she and Scott watch as John look over the body. She watched as he lifted the white sheet up and placed it just on the top of her bust. Melissa could not see the over the sheriff's shoulder to know that John had turned a pale color.

John's eyes widen as he tried to keep his appearance just the same when he had walked in. However, inside he was freaking out just like his son had done just moments ago. The black ink on the paler than snow skin was a circle with old English numbers that resembled an old Victorian Clock. The hands were missing and in their place was a rosemary leaves and stem.

The Rosemary Family.

"Stiles?" Scott questioned when the other teen slumped against his mother. Melissa looked down, worried for the younger teen. John glanced down at his son before recovering the white sheet over the _dead_ women and taking his son into his arms. He went to walk out and the other two helped him as they left the hospital.

"If you need anything, John." Melissa whispered before the Sheriff could walk to his car.

"I know, thank you, Melissa. Scott." He said before leaving. Scott and Melissa watched with worry as they left.

John parked the cruiser in the driveway of his home before looking over to his son. Between the drive from the hospital and the house, Stiles had fallen in a fruitless sleep. The shallow breathing shook the thin frame of the teenager, the tousled short strands of hair was a mess due to the teen running his fingers through it in his sleep, and lastly his pale skin seem to lost all color that it had so little of.

He opened the driver's side door before getting out and walking over to the passenger's side door. He opened the door and carefully picked his son up before kicking it closed. He slowly made his way to the front door and tried to balance Stiles as much as he can as he unlocked the door. With one little mishap and the door finally opened, John walked inside their small home. Once inside and shoes kicked off, John made his way up the stairs to his son's room.

Careful to not drop Stiles, the Sheriff opened the bedroom door. He could see the piles of paperwork on the desk and floor, the window half opened as if Stiles had forgot to close it, and the bedsheets to be on the floor due to the rush his son was in that morning. Once he placed his son on the bed, tucked him in and placed a kiss on his forehead, John left the room. Before closing the door, he glanced one last time at his son and with a sad sigh, he left with the door closing behind him.

He made it to his room that was just a door down from his son's room and entered it. The loose flies that he had taken from work was in one corner with a broad with main events from each case he had opened once finding out about Scott and his _monthly moon_ problem. He closed his bedroom door and made his way to the washroom that was connected to his bedroom and entered it. The washroom's light turned on after he flipped the switch and he stood there where he could stare into the mirror that hung just above the sink.

He stare and stared, not seeing himself, but of his first wife that no one could remember. His first wife had charmed the mirror one night as a gift for him for their three year anniversary before Stiles was even born. The long raven black curls fell below her shoulders, even past her lower back, dark forest green eyes glowed with amber (just like his son's amber colored eyes) with love. She was smiling.

He turned and left the washroom. He walked out of his room and into the shared washroom. He turned the shower on after turning the light on. Once it had warmed up, John hopped in and started to clean himself. With a quick rinse, he was out and back into his room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He walked to his closet and pulled out an old plaid T-shirt and pulled it on. A new pair of boxers were on him before he dropped into bed. Before his head hit the pillow he was out.


End file.
